Still Talking to Myself

      Still Talking to Myself

“I’m too old to start again” 
The gremlins of my mind set up their chatter.

“Too old? What on earth do you mean?” The gremlins sat back looking astonished by my question.

“How many decades have you been on this earth? Don’t you know that the older you get the less you should be doing?” The gremlins of my mind spoke in the voices of other generations.

“Decade schemade! What does that have to do with anything?” The gremlins were not to be deterred.

“Your skin is wrinkled, your joints are sore, your muscles are weak - and you want to start again?” The gremlins of my mind were trying hard to divert my new direction.

“Yes, my dears, but my ideas and excitement show no wrinkles. New ideas may need some work but that only means I am excited to continue to learn." The gremlins of my mind began to fade into dark corners muttering all the way.

“We will get the last word you know and it will be ‘we told you so’ but now we’ll go to bed.” The gremlins of my mind slid away with their ominous chattering.

“I’m never too old to start - so today I can choose to begin anew - never a completely new start.” There was quiet in my mind.

“Can you remember who you were, 

before the world told you who you should be?”

~ Charles Bukowski, Post Office

Author's Note: Edited January 31, 2024